Little Runaway
by DC41781
Summary: "She stares at him long and hard, like he's a puzzle she can't put together. Maybe she doesn't realize there are pieces missing; pieces she took from him." Two Dylan x Norma ficlets. The first is set when Dylan is four. The second is set somewhere within the last four episodes of the first season.
1. Chapter 1

The first thing he feels is her hand running down the back of his neck. Her touch is feather light and he comes to gently.

"Dylan." There's something sad infesting her voice. He rolls over and sees her tears glistening in the faint light the moon is casting on them.

"Mom?"

"Get up, honey. We're going for a ride."

He doesn't think to glance at the alarm clock, but it's still dark and there's a constant banging sound coming from downstairs.

"Mom, what's going on?"

"Nothing. Let's go." She gathers him to her, lifting him into her arms with minimal effort. Soon, he'll become quite the handful, but for now, he's still her little boy and she can still lead him wherever she feels the urge to.

She doesn't take the time to change him out of his pajamas. They've wasted too much time already and John's still screaming after her when she escapes out the front door. His last word to her will echo in her head (and Dylan's) forever.

Whore.

* * *

He falls asleep in the backseat. He dreams, but they're innocent still, untainted by horror or bitterness the way they will be years from now.

In the front seat, his mother frets. Her fingers tap incessantly at the wheel and she's muttering to herself. For a split second, she rests her palm on her belly.

It would get better.

* * *

He jerks awake when the car stops. Night continues to linger on the edges of the sky, just barely beating out the light of the day.

The back door opens and his mother's leaning over him with a change of clothes in hand.

She tugs him out and he follows her, ever the obedient son. It's a diner they've stopped at, he realizes. His stomach gives a loud gurgle that draws his mother's attention.

"I hear ya." She says with a laugh. It rings like a bell for Dylan, who still can't comprehend what she's actually done.

* * *

She changes him in a stall in the lady's restroom. She blows raspberries on his belly to alleviate her personal tension and he giggles the giggle of an as of yet untainted little boy.

By the time they sit at a table, she's relaxed. This was the right thing, letting this go, starting over somewhere new. It would get better; she'd make sure of it.

Beneath the table, her hand presses against the life steadily growing in her womb.

For both of us.

She seems to remember in a flash that Dylan's here, too, and she looks up at him. There's a smile on her face, but there's distraction as well, though it's something Dylan's not yet equipped to pick up on.

It's four thirty in the morning and she's been driving all night, but she manages to be polite with the waitress. Cereal for her son because it's too early for more than that and black coffee for her because the lag is peeling away the back of her eyelids.

Today is his fourth birthday; it's all she's been thinking about since the clock struck midnight. The truth could not be delivered to him today. She had to do something for him before she dropped the anvil in his lap. A weight he wasn't ready for, but a weight that was necessary all the same.

"What do you want to do today, honey?"

For a second, he seems perplexed, then he lights up.

Despite that, he shrugs. "I don't know."

"We'll take a drive and see what we can find, all right?"

That day would always stay with him, lurking heavy in the back of his mind. Playing in a nearby park and going to Carvel for ice cream cake. The luminosity of his mother's eyes and the beauty of the day itself. He tries not to think of the way it all came crashing down when they'd arrived in Sam Bates' driveway, but he does anyway, because Sam Bates haunted him every waking second.

But, nothing haunted him like Norma. Whether it be good times or bad times, she was there. He'd be lying if he said he didn't welcome it most of the time. Having her in memory was better than not having her at all.

The fact still remained that no matter what he saw in his wanderings, there was nothing like the real thing.


	2. Chapter 2

He found himself thinking on that day now as he stood before her, begging her to ride on the back of his motorcycle.

It was just like the first time, stealing away into the night, running far from the world. The two of them rebels in arms, soldiers cloaked in armor and a stiff refusal to adhere to defeat.

That first time, it was only Norma who'd been running, but this time, Dylan needs to go with her. It's all he can think about, gathering her up and driving her away from this fucked up town. She wouldn't let him get far-not without Norman-but that didn't make the idea any less enticing.

As it is, they're just going to dinner, but Dylan feels like Superman introducing Lois Lane to the art of flying.

She stares at the spare helmet that dangles off his fingers as if preparing herself for the moment when it will become a python and bite her.

"Come on, Norma."

She doesn't know what to do with the look on his face. It's endearing, but it's also dangerous.

"I won't speed." A stupid ass grin stretches across his face. "It's not that bad."

For a moment, she just observes him. Her big bold son with that stupid fucking smile, resembling a twelve year old begging for some worthless toy. Against her better judgment, she returns the smile.

"All right. All right. Just…be careful."

"Scout's honor."

Thankfully, it's only a short ride to the village. Still, beside the rapid heartbeat and tightly shut eyes, she finds exhilaration in the wind blowing across her face. Dylan's presence provides comfort, too, when she presses her cheek into his shoulder and allows his foundation to keep her. It's an odd thing to trust her oldest son. After all, she's spent most of her life spouting off hateful words and pushing him away. She's wasted so much time. Her gaze flits over his back, the broad shoulders, the muscles shifting under his leather jacket.

He's grown up away from her. When he left, he was a moody, stone faced teenager and now, he's a man who has seen too much for his young age. There are lines around his eyes that eat at his youth. It stuns her to find that his eyes are just like hers. That was one of the first things she noticed when he crash landed back in her life. They're solid blue, but they hold a history of damage. They're haunted and Norma can see it every time she's in a room with him. It chills her to the bone.

She leans her head on his shoulder and out of the corner of her eye, she can make out the smile on his face. The sight warms her heart.

* * *

The diner's two hours from closing, so the guests have started to thin out. It means that Norma's favorite booth in the back is open and Dylan watches her basically skip to it, sliding into it while wearing a big ass grin. She was quite the conundrum. When she was happy, there was no one happier. When she was angry…well, Hell hath no fury like Norma Bates scorned. Dylan knew that better than most. After all, scorning her was a pastime of his.

At the very least, it used to be.

He clenches his jaw as he settles into the seat across from her. On this night, it's black coffee for both of them because everything feels heavy and nothing is settled between them. In silence, he ruminates, trying to place the exact moment everything between them changed.

It was most likely right around the time he put four bullets in Zach Shelby, but he didn't want to think about that. He couldn't think about the things he'd do for this woman.

He couldn't even be sure if she didn't still hate him.

Nevertheless, she stares at him long and hard, like he's a puzzle she can't put together. Maybe she doesn't realize there are pieces missing; pieces she took from him.

"Where did you go?" She asks. The question throws so far off balance he can barely form enough thought to reply.

"What do you mean?"

"When you…when you left us, where did you go?"

He can see how hard it is for her. This question, this string of words, this particular thought that's stained with her mistakes and his resentment. He swallows. The night he left was a blur; he can only remember driving, watching houses go by while he found himself trapped in a mental fog. He couldn't remember where he'd even thought of going. All he'd known in that moment was how bad he needed to run. Run the way Norma does, except that running from Norma was easier when you weren't Norma. It's quite the revelation when it finally comes to him. He ran from her, but she can't run from herself.

He looks at her again and this time, he sees something he's never seen before. He sees self-loathing burning beneath her skin; he sees desperation hidden within her bright blue eyes; he sees himself in the clenched fists that rest on the table. For all the things she's done to him, she's taken a personal beating. A piece of her left when he did and he knows that in this second. Everything he did affected her, whether she had the courage to show it or not.

"I went away." It's cryptic, but it's all he can think to say. "I just knew I had to leave, so I left. A fresh start."

Something registers on her face. She sees it, too. They're the same. It's always been fight or flight in their world. They're both wounded animals huddled in a corner who'd chew off their own paws before they'd die of hunger. There's instinct, but mostly, there's loneliness. A thirst for something that isn't there; something that isn't reachable.

Dylan wonders if what they've been looking for is each other. Another person cut from the same cloth, who shared the same mentality. It's a bitter, bitter irony.

"I know the feeling." Norma replies. She shoots him a sad little smile and there's so much hiding in it, he can barely maintain eye contact.

"I missed you. When you left."

He's sure the shock appears on his face. He's sure he's an open book right now. The funny thing is, he doesn't care. Those words…those words are everything.

"It was just…there was something missing and I noticed it every day."

She reaches across the table and grabs his hand. Silence stays with them because he can't think of how to respond. It was her fault; her and her relationship with Norman; her and her shitty marriage.

Norma won't say she's sorry, that much he knows. She has too much pride for that. That doesn't change the fact that he can see the words sitting on the edge of her tongue. It hurts worse than he thought it could. She can't fix it because she can't admit that she broke it.

For a second, he remembers his fourth birthday. One of the last days it wasn't broken; one of the last days there were no hard feelings. The memory lessens the load sitting on his chest.

Maybe it was cowardice. This thing between them, this wall that kept them apart. Maybe it was pride.

Yet, he wasn't indifferent to her pain. Something'd been missing for him, too, and it'd been her.

Always her.

"Me, too." It's easy to say it when he isn't actually saying it.

She bites her bottom lip. Dylan drops his eyes. It's such an endearing gesture to him for some reason he can't fathom.

When he looks up again, she's wearing a crumbled expression.

"I want you to stay with Norman and I. And not just because I want you to help."

"Why?"

"Because you're family."


End file.
